Whitmarsh led them to a branch of a coffee shop chain and ordered something with a made-up name ending in 'ccino'. The taste of the herbal tea still fresh in her mouth (if the result of a chemistry experiment could ever be said to be fresh) Ess played safe and ordered a decaffeinated Earl Grey.

"I'll get straight to the point," Whitmarsh said when they were seated. "I'm sure we both have other things planned. Peter has nothing whatsoever to do with that girl."

"Mr. Whitmarsh, I never said he did. I'm just trying to find her, that's all."

He stared at her, as if he didn't believe her for a moment. Ess raised her eyebrows, inviting a comment. When none came she said, "I'm trying to be patient here. I understand you deal with politics every day, but sometimes things are exactly what they seem on the surface. I'm just trying to find Daisy, and Mr. Davenport was the penultimate person to see her. That's my only interest in your employer. Where is he, by the way?"

"Ha! Peter is busy. These last couple of weeks busier than ever. But even so, as his advisor I would have strongly recommended he not meet you."

'Would have', thought Ess. So Davenport doesn't know about this meeting? Or at least, he can claim ignorance. No, that didn't seem to fit with the man she met last night. Davenport appeared to be that rare thing, a sincere politician. She wasn't sure of the significance, but she filed it away.

"Why's that?"

"Look, Peter is a good man. Yes, everyone's cynical about politicians, and the press has blown a lot of it all out of proportion, but Peter has worked tirelessly for his constituents for years. Finally, all that hard work, all that loyalty, not just to the party but to the thousands of people he represents, finally it's starting to pay off. It's no secret things are due a shake-up in Westminster, and Peter's name is being whispered. He was even on the telly this morning, the Dupont Interview."

Ess shook her head in ignorance. She wasn't that interested in politics. To be fair, she wasn't that interested in anything that happened early on a Sunday morning.

"Dupont. He's one of the major -- look, it's a big thing. Anyway, the point is, he's on the rise, and you know what that means." He looked at her and apparently decided that someone ignorant of how big a thing the Dupont Interview was would also be ignorant of what was obvious in politics. "It means the press and the opposition would love to stick the knife in. Kicking a man when he's in the gutter is hardly sporting, but knocking him off a ladder, oh, that's so very British. Now, there is nothing there to be uncovered. Peter's life is an open book, but when has that stopped the gutter press? Being associated in any way with any sort of scandal would not only be unjustified, it would be unjust, for him and for his constituents. Do you understand?"

Ess spread her hands. "So what's the problem?"

Whitmarsh sighed. "Really? Politician questioned in the disappearance of model. Married MP and the beautiful socialite. I'm standing by him, says long-suffering wife. Nothing out and out libellous, but enough innuendo to bring someone down, even when, and let me emphasise this again, even when there is no truth to it at all." He stabbed his finger on the table in time to the last few syllables. "So, Ms. Williams, I want to make absolutely certain you're aware of the hand I'm dealing here. Peter never met that woman before the photo shoot. She wasn't even meant to be there. She turned up uninvited halfway through the shoot. Peter talked to her, but he's a politician, talking to people is what they do, well, the good ones anyway. And then we left while Lord Hever continued to photograph her. He and I, we left because we had an engagement at Boreham Wood Comprehensive Spring Fair, where hundreds of teachers, kids and parents could attest to his presence. Peter has had no contact since. That is all there is to it. No scandal, no prurient gossip, just a casual and coincidental meeting. I would be very disappointed if I were to read anything in the press."

Was that a threat? she wondered.

"I think you've made that plain, Mr. Whitmarsh, though it does seem an awful lot of effort to tell me nothing."

He held up a finger.

"However - and let me make this plain, there is nothing untoward in this -- however, Peter was concerned that a pleasant young woman like Daisy should suddenly disappear. The plight of missing people is a tragedy in London, as it is in all major cities. He expressed this concern to you last night, and he's not a man to make empty noises and meaningless sound bites. So on his behalf I have done some detective work for you."

He pulled a folder from his briefcase and slid it across the table. When Ess reached for it his hand remained firmly on the cover, holding it closed.

"I have done this, you understand? Me. Peter is unaware, and should he become aware it could have repercussions. Peter is a fair man, but I'm not. If it hits the fan, I shall ensure the majority of it comes your way. The file leaves here with me, and I never showed it to you. You have no idea how many favours I called in to get this. People really do not like phone calls early on a Sunday morning. I need to know you understand this, or I can simply leave now."

His expression left no room for doubt. Ess nodded.

"I understand."

Whitmarsh removed his hand and sat back, staring at her as Ess opened the file and started to read. They were reports of movements, dates and times. A few paragraphs summarised Daisy and her lifestyle, full of jargon and odd phrases that every industry uses to mask it's machinations from the uninitiated. Photographs showed her leaving or entering various premises. One of them she recognised as Martin's apartment block. Every sheet had had the names of departments or people obscured, but if they weren't police reports, they were from departments that had police-like responsibilities.

She reached the end, closed the file and looked up at Whitmarsh, who was still staring at her. He held his hand out and she returned the file.


"Let me summarize," he said. "She is of no fixed abode, as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes she spends the nights at friends and acquaintances. Other nights --" He spread his hands and shrugged. "Our mutual acquaintance is one of the friends she seems to favour, as you saw, but she is by no means exclusive. That's a dangerous lifestyle for anyone. She also disappears God only knows where for periods. The point is, Ms. Williams, she may not be missing at all. She is infamous for her unreliability. And even if she is missing involuntarily, whilst that is of course terrible, one would have to wonder how it is she could have lived the life she does and not have put herself in harm's way before now."

"Are you saying that, as a woman, she asked for it?"

"I'm saying, we have to accept responsibility for our own decisions. Her choices are risky, and would be regardless of her gender. I look both ways before crossing the road, because although people shouldn't drink and drive, they still do. So if you are concerned about her wellbeing, I would strongly suggest you inform the professionals. I would also suggest that you take a look at the many acquaintances, casual and otherwise, with whom she has a record of staying."

Ess nodded at the file.

"Somebody must have been staking her out already."

"Her? No. She is not a person of interest as far as I know. She has no particular political or radical connections. Quite the opposite, her circle includes people of all persuasions, political and otherwise. She has been noticed only in as much as some person or person was of interest and she flitted by. She would only need to dally with two radicals or high rankers to sound a bell, but trust me, our security forces are far too stretched to follow foolish girls as they dance from one party to another."

Whitmarsh placed the file back in his case and nodded to her. "And if I can be of any further assistance --" He gave her a smile that dripped with insincerity and sarcasm, rose and left.

Ess gritted her teeth. She couldn't pinpoint the words, but she knew Whitmarsh was warning her off. Leave it to the police, harass Daisy's friends, but leave his precious member of parliament alone. If he thought that threatening her, however veiled, would put her off, he didn't know her very well at all. The question was, why?

Possibility one: Davenport was behind the disappearance. If Whitmarsh was right, Davenport's star was on the ascendency. Why would he risk his career over something like that? But then men were stupid when it came to hormones.

Possibility two: Whitmarsh was behind it, or knew who was. He was an oily, loathsome man, but he didn't strike Ess as having the passion or the hunger for that sort of thing. Besides, he was a schemer. He made plans, mapped out his future and explored all the possibilities. She bet he had his own life mission statement somewhere. He didn't seem to be the sort of person who would take any action without thinking it all through first.

Possibility three: It was exactly what Whitmarsh had said. He was just concerned about his employer's career and reputation. Whitmarsh struck her as someone who had long ago decided his own success relied on him holding tight to someone else's coattails. Maybe he was just being a good PA and friend.

She sighed. She would have to do a little more digging. There had to be stuff about the two men on the Internet somewhere. The meeting had done little to reassure her that Daisy was just away on an extended party somewhere. And somewhere in the back of her brain the clock ticked of the seconds before she would have to confront Daisy's father again.